What Happens in Vegas
by NoCleverSig
Summary: Magnus goes to Las Vegas to meet with a mysterious benefactor and discovers he is not such a mystery to her after all.  Tesla UST/Lust and even a little Will UST/Lust thrown in for good measure.  ;


**What Happens in Vegas**

**Author's Note: I hope you get a kick out of reading this. I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to my darling hubby, craps shooter extraordinaire, who helped me with the betting sequence in the craps scene. Viva Las Vegas, Baby! ;) Peace. NCS**

"So, Vegas, huh?" Will said a touch of jealousy in his voice.

He stood in Helen's bedroom watching her pack. Magnus said she had some last minute instructions for him before her departure, so this was her method of multitasking.

"Yes," Helen replied opening her suitcase, ignoring Will's not so subtle tone. "I haven't been there in awhile actually. Not since Stephen invited me to the opening of the Bellagio back in…what was it? 1993? 94? I really should call him while I'm in town," she continued. "He's been such a wonderful benefactor."

"Stephen? As in…?"

"Wynn," Helen said.

Will nodded his head. "Of course, the real estate tycoon. The guy who built the Wynn Hotel, Bellagio, Treasure Island, the Mirage, yadda, yadda, yadda," Will gestured with his hands in the air. Why should he be surprised?

"And before that, well, it had been years since I'd been to Las Vegas. It was after the war, 1947. Benjamin invited me to the opening of the Flamingo. Hmmm…it might have been 1946 now that I think about it," she said, shaking her head. "I can't remember precisely." Helen opened her closet looking through her skirts and blouses.

Don't do it, Will told himself. She's only setting you up. He waited a beat. Then another. Damn it!

"Benjamin? As in Benjamin 'Bugsy' Siegel, the gangster?" He couldn't help himself.

Helen paused and looked up, thinking.

Here it comes, Will thought.

"Well, I wouldn't describe him completely as a 'gangster.' He was quite charming, really. Very handsome and a great patron of our work," Helen said picking out a skirt and a blouse and folding them neatly into her suitcase.

"You're telling me the mob helped fund the Sanctuary?"

"Absolutely not, William! Benjamin was working on becoming a very legitimate business owner with the opening of the Flamingo. He just became a little…over extended," Helen finished.

"He was gunned down by the Mafia, Magnus," Will replied, exasperated.

She frowned. "Indeed. It was quite horrid." She went over to select some jewelry from her case.

Not going to say it, he thought. Not going to say it.

"You know, Magnus. Sometimes I think you just make this stuff up," Will said.

There. He said it.

Helen stopped mid stride and glared at him. The sound of a metaphorical lone cricket could be heard chirping in the room.

"Okay, maybe not," Will caved.

Magnus went back to selecting earrings.

"So this trip to Vegas, is it 'Business' business or is it 'Vegas, baby!' business?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows and pretending to shoot imaginary dice.

"Business, Will, I assure you," Helen said flatly.

"Too bad," he replied.

"And part of the business I need you to get more involved in. Up until now most of your work has been with day to day operations. But running the Sanctuary requires financing, and that requires wining and dining powerful people, people who become benefactors, sponsors, contribute to our foundation. If you're to take over for me some day, you need to know how that part of the business is done." She turned to him, "Remind me of that when I return. Next trip, you're coming with me."

He smiled. Wining and dining. That might be a nice change from snagging and bagging.

"So you're going to Vegas to meet a potential financer?"

"A current one, actually, although I've yet to meet him. Mr. Rashan Hasad recently donated $1.3 million to the Sanctuary Foundation and he's invited me to attend the opening of his new hotel and casino. Naturally, I have to go," Magnus said picking out and packing a very skimpy little black dress, Will noted.

"Naturally," Will replied trying to keep his expression neutral. He picked up the invitation sitting on her night stand. "'Mr Rashan Hasad requests your presence at the Grand Opening of his new casino and resort the Hotel du Vampire,'….Oh, Magnus, this is a joke, right?"

"Unfortunately, no," she sighed. "You know Las Vegas and its 'themed' hotels. Vampires are all the rage these days. Just look at HBO. But at least the suite is complimentary," she smiled.

"So this guy, Mr. Rashan…," Will looked down at the invitation again, "Hasad just dropped a million dollars into our foundation without you even knowing him? How does that happen? How did he even find out about us?"

"Oh, word gets around, particularly among the extremely powerful and wealthy," Magnus said. "They find our work particularly exhilarating. Perhaps he spoke with Stephen."

"Wynn," Will replied.

"Yes," she smiled.

"Magnus, is there anyone you _don't_ know?"

"Hmmm…." She considered Will's question for a moment. "George Clooney."

"George Clooney?" He asked.

"Never met him. And I have to admit, I'm quite taken with his movies."

Will smiled. "You have a crush on George Clooney?"

Helen stared at him. "I'm over a hundred years old, Will. I have a crush on no one," she paused. "Although I will admit, should he ask me to dinner, I certainly wouldn't object."

Will laughed. "Okay, so about those items you wanted me to take care of while you're away this weekend…."

"Yes," she said looking in her dresser and pulling out a selection of black frilly undergarments that made Will blush and look away. TMI, he thought. Not appropriate to know what Magnus is wearing underneath her clothes. Might find myself thinking about….

"Will? Are you paying attention?" Magnus snapped.

"Oh yeah, I'm certainly at attention." Will swallowed, hands folded in front of him.

She looked at him puzzled, and then rattled off over a dozen items he needed to take care of while she was gone.

* * *

It wasn't a suite at the Hotel du Vampire. It was _the_ "Master's Suite" at the Hotel du Vampire. Five thousand square feet of ostentatious, gothic opulence.

"Are you sure I have the right room?" Helen asked the bellman as he opened the door to what amounted to a small estate on the top floor of the hotel and casino.

"Quite sure, Dr. Magnus. Mr. Hasad himself selected it for you."

"Oh," was all Magnus could manage.

"As you can see the foyer is shaped like a bridge with a reflecting pond underneath and glass chandeliers above you," he pointed out as they entered. "Here in the living room you have a fire place, 50 inch flat screen TV, and home theatre system with surround sound. Over here," he continued, Magnus following behind, "is your full service bar with seating for eight. Your formal dining room is here with floor-to-wall glass doors, for privacy of course."

"Of course," Magnus nodded.

"Outside is your private Zen garden, fountains, mini pool, and hot tub." He turned and walked back through the living room. "And in here is the guest suite with private bath, fireplace, and flat screen TV. But the best part," he said, spinning and smiling at her, "is here."

Helen walked into the master bedroom. The bed, the largest she'd ever seen, was made up with what looked like black satin sheets, blood red comforter, and black and red throw pillows piled three feet high. A giant fireplace encompassed nearly a quarter of one wall. And a mammoth flat screen TV hung on another flagged by two massive candled sconces. Above her hung a brilliant chandelier and…

Mirrors. The ceiling was covered in mirrors.

"Oh my," Magnus said, looking up.

"Sweet isn't it?" the bellman said to her.

"Something like that, yes," she replied.

"And over here," he continued moving through the room, "is the Master Bath. Whirlpool therapeutic bath tub and rainforest Swiss steam showers, big enough for two…or more," he winked. "And his and her Italian marble vanities with mother of pearl inlays. Of course there are towel warmers, cedar closets, high speed Internet access, private work station, 24 hour butler service, automatic drapery control and," he pointed to the floor-to-ceiling windows back in the bedroom, "You have an excellent view of the Strip, particularly at night. So, any questions Dr. Magnus? Anything I can get for you? Ice? Champagne? Hors d'oeuvres?"

For the first time in a long time Helen Magnus was speechless.

"No," she finally mustered. "Thank you. I think this will be…quite enough," she said gazing around her.

"All right, well if you need anything during your stay my name is Troy and you can reach me here," he handed her a card. "Guests on this floor have private valets and butlers. I'm yours. Oh, and Mr. Hasad wanted me to tell you that he will come see you later this afternoon before the party. He would have greeted you himself, but he was taking care of last minute details. I'm sure you understand."

She nodded. "Certainly." She pulled out some cash and tipped Troy.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Magnus, and please call if I can be of any assistance during your visit."

"I will."

Troy left. Helen stood in the middle of the living room gazing outside as the early afternoon light played across her private Zen garden and waterfall.

"What the bloody hell?" she said out loud.

* * *

Dinner and drinks started at 7. The party began at 9. By 6:30 Helen was dressed and ready to go. Black dress (slightly tighter and shorter than she was used to, but this was Las Vegas after all), T-strap heels, silver earrings, silver necklace with just the right amount of embellishments, a touch of L'Air du Desert Marocain on her skin, make up just so, and she was set to begin her Sanctuary fundraising duties. Magnus had learned long ago that when you want money from people who have money you have to look like you have money too. Of course, she did have money, so it wasn't that hard to pull off.

The doorbell rang and Magnus glanced through the peep hole. Whoever it was had his back toward her, looking away, so she couldn't see his face. Troy said Mr. Hasad was going to visit before the party. If it was him, she certainly didn't want him to wait. Magnus opened the door.

"Helen Magnus," Nikola Tesla said, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes did a not so subtle sweep of her body. "Don't you look delicious."

"Nikola? What the hell are you doing here?"

"In my hotel?" he asked, pointing at himself. "Well, making sure your accommodations are adequate, of course. May I come in?" He walked past her leaving Helen gobsmacked and still holding the door.

_My hotel…adequate accommodations…what in bloody hell?_

"Do you like the mirrors in the bedroom? I had them installed especially for you." He winked.

Helen was catching on now. "You're Rashan Hasad?"

"The same. I thought I could get away with a little Middle Eastern flare. What do you think? Does it work on me?" he said, turning his head coyly.

"Eastern European, yes. Middle Eastern, no," Helen managed.

"Ah, well, no one will notice or care. By the way, I'm so glad you could make the party. I would have been dreadfully disappointed if you hadn't come," he said, a sad, boyish look on his face.

"Nikola, what in bloody hell are you playing at now?"

"Nothing," he flipped his hand, looking aghast. "I'm a legitimate real estate owner. This is my new line of work: Global domination through real estate development and entrepreneurship. It's the American way. You have to admit it suits me." He grinned.

"Where did you get the money to do…all this?" Helen gestured at the room.

Tesla held up a hand and examined his nails.

"Oh, that. Well, turns out my new Mr. Magneto powers had some very cool applications."

"You stole it," Helen said accusingly.

"I didn't say that. Applications could be software applications, business applications, new technologies, etcetera, etcetera…."

"You stole it," she said again.

"It doesn't matter. I'm legitimate now."

"And the Hotel du Vampire, horrible name by the way, is your way of laundering your new found wealth?"

Nikola looked down at his nails again. "I like the name," he said, looking hurt.

Helen shook her head. "All right. Fine. You're a real estate developer now. I know there's more to it, but we'll go with that for the moment. What do you want from me?"

He looked up, arms spread wide. "Frankly, I just thought you could use a holiday after all that nasty business with your crazy ex that I heard about. An energy being turning him into Mr. Big, Bald, and Ugly? Uh-huh, right. You know the offer to shock him into his senses still stands."

"No thank you, Nikola. I think I'd like to work on a more permanent, more humane solution."

"Eh," he shrugged. "Your call."

Helen walked up to him, arms crossed, and stood an inch from his face. In heels, they met eye to eye.

"Out with it, Nikola." She said, glaring.

"Out with what?"

"Why you brought me here under false pretenses."

"Not false, perhaps dubious, but not false," he said, picking at the lapel of his tuxedo.

"Nikola, we've done this little dance before, and frankly I'm growing tired of it. I want the truth. Now."

Tesla sighed. "I need a date."

She'd expected some excuse, but certainly not that.

"What?"

"It's my grand opening, and I need a date," he said, shyly.

"Nikola, I haven't been to Las Vegas in several years, but as I recall, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of beautiful women from which you could acquire a 'date,'" Helen told him.

"I don't want an escort, Helen, I want…." He stopped and looked at her. "A friend," he said, although she was sure it wasn't what he had originally intended to say.

Helen eyed him intently and what she saw surprised her. In front of her stood the shy, intelligent, awkward boy she'd known at Oxford. She looked down at her watch and sighed.

"Nikola, it's 6:45 p.m. Your dinner begins at 7. What if I said no?" Helen asked.

He shrugged. "I guess I'd go stag." Nikola looked at her nervously. "C'mon, Helen. I need a date. You desperately need a good time. We both win." Tesla smiled.

Helen narrowed her eyes at him. "All right, I'll be your date. But no funny business, Nikola," she said poking a finger in his chest. "I'm serious."

"Hmm… define 'funny business'?"

"Nikola…," Magnus said warningly.

He put up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. No funny business." Nikola offered her his hand. "Let's just go have a good time. Shall we?"

Helen looked at his outstretched hand. This could be a very monumental mistake, she thought. But here she was in Las Vegas and the idea of "having a good time" with no other thoughts or expectations held a sudden and unusual appeal.

She took his hand. Tesla grinned. Helen rolled her eyes.

"Let the games begin," he said.

* * *

Dinner took place at the top of the hotel in a rotating glass restaurant simply called "Bite."

Guests sat in rounds of eight. Helen and "Mr. Hasad" seated with the wealthiest and most famous of them all. After a welcoming speech from her "date," which was predictably egotistical, dinner was served. The lobster and steak were amazingly delectable as was the discussion amongst the guests at the table. Helen made several promising contacts, and Nikola/Rashan proved himself a delightful conversationalist.

"How did you like your dinner, Helen? Should I keep the chef or flail him alive? Your call," Tesla smiled, sipping an after dinner cappuccino.

"It was delicious, Nik..Rashan," she said. "Everything was wonderful, truly. I must admit, I am impressed."

"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it, Helen. Just wait until we check out my new night club, Club Tesla. It's the hottest ticket in town. Only the most beautiful women get in. But I'm sure you'll manage," he said, casually draping his arm around her chair and ogling her body once more. She swore he did it just to annoy her.

"Club Tesla? Seriously?"

"I thought it had a rather nice ring to it." He grinned.

As much as she wanted to it was hard to stay mad at Nikola. Over the years he tried so hard to impress. And he really was a genius. Evil genius, on occasion, yes, but why split hairs?

Just as she was thinking good thoughts about him, a hand came down on her knee squeezing it gently and lightly trailing up her stocking toward her thigh and the very short hem of her very short dress. She kicked him under the table, heel first, hard.

"Ouch," he said and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You're supposed to be my date, remember?"

"Date, not escort, Nikola, so don't push it. You know I'm capable of pushing back. Hard," she whispered back.

"Promises, promises," he replied. Helen simply glared.

* * *

The party was set in the Hotel's Grand Ballroom. The motif was straight gothic novel, dark and castle-like. But for a vampire themed hotel, as ridiculous as that might be, it worked.

"I know, I know, I'm playing to the masses here," Nikola said rather apologetically nodding at the décor, "But what can I say? It sells."

"Honestly, Nikola? I rather like it I'm surprised to say."

"Really?" Tesla looked at her, the desperate need for approval appearing on his face again. "Must be you've grown used to that dreary Sanctuary of yours."

"Regardless," she said, ignoring him, "It's quite brilliant. You've definitely impressed me," Helen said smiling.

"That's twice in one night. I think I might have set a new record," he replied returning her smile. "Now, my dear, we must mingle. This is for you," he said snagging a glass of champagne from a passing caterer and handing it to her. "Will you accompany me on my rounds?" he asked, slipping an arm around her waist.

Magnus sighed, but this was important to him, she could tell. "Fine, she said, but keep the arm up. No dipping."

"Okay, okay. Sheesh, a guy doesn't get much for his million dollar donation these days, does he?" Tesla said, taking a quick swig of champagne and waiting, obviously, for Helen's reaction.

Helen glared at him. "Nikola, I am warning you…"

He grinned at her with that toothy, boyish face.

She took a step back. "You say these things on purpose, don't you? Just to set me on edge."

"I couldn't resist. You're just so incredibly sexy when you're angry," Tesla told her, sweeping her again with his eyes.

"Enough, Rashan," she said with an emphasis on the 'Rashan'. "Let's go entertain your guests." And she took him by the arm and led him into the crowd.

* * *

"I'm bored," Tesla complained, popping a cake ball into his mouth.

"Nikola," Helen said tightly. "This is your party, remember? Hundreds of people, music, food, drinks? How could you possibly be bored?"

"These people are boring," he said, downing another piece of sugary iced bread.

She leaned into him. "Seriously, how can you find this dull? We've met a number of fascinating people tonight."

"No," he corrected her, holding his index finger in front of her face. "_You've_ met a number of fascinating people tonight, people who are potential benefactors for your precious Sanctuary. Me? I'm bored. There's no one here as smart as me, and frankly, that's boring. Well, present company excluded of course." He said, nodding to her.

"I swear, Nikola, sometimes you act like an impudent child…"

"I know," he said, his face lighting up. "Let's gamble!"

"What about your guests?" Helen asked, looking out over the crowd.

"Eh, they don't care about me. They're just here for the free booze. Let's go."

Rashan/Nikola grabbed Helen's hand and led her out onto the casino floor. The cacophonous sound of thousands of slot machines greeted them along with flashing lights, cigarette smoke, and a number of blaring voices coming from the gaming tables.

They passed a roulette table. "15 Black! 15 Black!" the dealer yelled. The people standing there moaned.

"How about roulette?" Nikola suggested, pulling her toward the wheel.

"Roulette's a fool's game, and you know it. Unless that was your plan all along," she said, teasing him. "Donate a million dollars to my Sanctuary and bring me here so you could win it all back?"

"Fine," Tesla frowned. He looked across the room and his face lit up again. "Craps!"

Helen hesitated.

"You know you love it. Best odds in the house, aside from card counting in Blackjack and who wants to do that… hardly fair. Besides, you're good at it," he whispered intimately into her ear.

"Nikola, it's been years since I've played…." Helen started.

"Oh, c'mon Helen. Monte Carlo? 1911? Le Casino de Monte-Carlo? You and me and Nigel and James? We all won very big that night, thanks to you."

"It was my first time playing," Helen reminded him.

"Yes, and you know what they say about the first time a woman shoots Craps? She wins big. And you did. You became quite adept at the game after that. Let's see if you still got it in you. What d'ya say?" he said, needling her.

"Fine," she assented, knowing he wouldn't leave it alone until she relented.

They walked up to table just in time to hear the dealer yell, "Seven, craps out!" and a half dozen people groan. It was like the air had been let out of a massive balloon.

"Good evening, Mr. Hasad," said the manager on duty.

"Hello, George," Nikola said, looking down at the man's name tag. Helen reached for her purse. "Tut, tut, my dear. This is on me," he said, putting his hand on her hand. "Give the lady a $100,000 marker, George."

"Rashan, you really don't need to…." Helen started.

"My casino, my rules," he said smiling at her.

"Thank you," She replied.

The dealer pushed a stack of $100,000 chips toward her.

"Would you like to roll?" Nikola asked.

"Of course," she grinned.

Nikola whispered into the dealer's ear.

"New shooter, coming out. Place your bets!" the dealer said.

Helen put a thousand dollars down the on the Pass Line. The rest of the table placed their bets.

The dealer handed the dice to Helen. "C'mon, pretty lady," said a burly man in a Stetson hat at the end of the table. "Bring us some luck." Helen leaned over, shook the dice, and tossed them expertly down the table. The Texan in the Stetson admired the view down her dress. Nikola admired the view from the back. Helen ignored them both.

The dice hit the end of the table and turned up 6 and a 3.

"Nine!" the dealer said, "The point is 9."

Helen pulled out a stack of chips and placed a four thousand odds behind her thousand dollar Pass Line bet and told the dealer, "$6,000 on the 6 and the 8 please."

"Ooh, I like it," Nikola cooed at her. "Betting big out of the gate. That's my girl."

She picked up the dice, leaned over once more, affording the growing number of spectators at the table another complimentary view, and tossed the dice. All eyes turned from Helen to the two red cubes. They smacked the end of the table tumbling into a 3 and a 3. The table roared. The dealer added $7,000 in chips to Helen's stack.

"Press it up," she told the dealer, raising her bet to $12,000 on the 6.

"Oh," Nikola whispered in her ear. "You are so hot when you gamble."

"Don't distract me, Rashan," she said, picking up the dice. She shook them and threw them again.

"Six!" the dealer yelled. The table erupted. The dealer pushed $14,000 in chips toward Helen's rapidly growing stack.

"I see you haven't lost your touch," Nikola purred, hand slipping from her waist to her ass.

"Hands, Nikola" she whispered.

* * *

Two hours and $375,000 later, Tesla escorted a gleeful but guilt-ridden Helen Magnus to her suite. She'd been trying to persuade him for the past 20 minutes to let her return the money she'd won.

"At least take back the $100,000 you spotted me, Nikola."

"Nonsense," he said, dismissing her with the wave of his hand. "Consider it my donation, final donation I may add, to your abnormal cause."

"Well, thank you Nikola."

"You're welcome. Besides, by the end of the night some shlub will have lost it all back for me and I'll be a half million dollars ahead." He smirked.

"That is how a casino usually works," Helen remarked.

"Isn't it?" he said, smiling

"Well, here we are," Helen said as they approached her door. Now what, she wondered? Thank him for a lovely time and say goodnight? Invite him in for conversation and a drink? She hadn't been on a "date" in so long she was unsure of the proper etiquette. The only thing she was sure of was that she had no desire to lead him on.

"So," Helen said, deciding, "Would you like to join me for a nightcap?"

Tesla grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

She cringed. Wrong choice.

* * *

"Come on, Helen. Admit it, you had fun."

Nikola and Helen reclined on lounge chairs in her Zen garden next to the mini pool listening to the sound of the fountain and gazing at the twinkling lights of the Las Vegas Strip. It was 4 in the morning. They'd been sipping Scotch and chatting for two hours about Oxford, London, the war, the Sanctuary, his dreams of global domination. Just like old times.

Helen had enough Scotch in her by now to ask Tesla what she had wanted to ask him since she'd received the invitation from Mr. Rashan Hasad.

"Nikola, if you wanted me to be your date for this evening, why didn't you just ask?"

Tesla was silent for a moment.

"Honestly?" he looked at her, no hint of sarcasm in his expression now. "I didn't think you'd say yes," he said softly.

The shy, awkward, brilliant young man she'd known at Oxford had emerged again.

"Nikola…," she started.

"Besides," the boy disappeared as quickly as he came. "You still have a 'thing' for Mr. Tall and Slicey, which is an issue you should really get some therapy for, by the way."

"You're probably right," Helen agreed.

"Really?"

"Really."

They were silent again.

"You're right about something else, too," Magnus continued.

"Second time tonight? What pray tell could it be?" Nikola asked smugly.

" I had fun." She turned and kissed him on the cheek.

Tesla looked at her and smiled. Not a grin. Not a gloat, but an honest to God smile.

"Really?"

"Really."

"So, does that change your mind about trying out the mirrors?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows and inclining his head toward the master bedroom.

"No." Helen said flatly.

"Ah, well, two out of three's not bad."

END


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